


Match. Chat. Date.

by ThereWasStillTime



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereWasStillTime/pseuds/ThereWasStillTime
Summary: Robin sets up Cormoran on a date.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	Match. Chat. Date.

“Ms Porter, I was rather hoping we could meet tonight, next week is a bit too late. The information we need…it’s time-sensitive. Al said…”

"So, I suppose Cormoran’s busy. It’s a shame really. If this was so important…” Ciara Porter sulked down the phone.

Robin rolled her eyes before forcefully explaining, “Well, I am a partner in the agency, I actually own half the business, so you are a priority for the agency. We could have sent one of our contractors but I’m willing to see you - ”

“I understand Ms…what did you say your name was?” she went on before Robin could remind her, “It’s just I haven’t seen Cormoran in such a long time, I’m sure he’d love to…catch up,” 

Robin raised an eyebrow as the woman giggled down the phone and tried to stifle a sigh, “Ms Porter –“

“Ms…I’m sure if you spoke to Cormoran he would be happy to see me,” Ciara Porter purred, sure that her supermodel status would win favour with Robin’s partner, “I could definitely make myself available as soon as tonight if he was free,” 

Robin felt annoyed with herself as she recognised the irritating old jealousy that, without doing much, Cormoran managed to not only attract such attractive women but was clearly hard to forget too, “Ciara,” This is not a dating agency, it’s a detective agency, Robin was desperate to inform her but the information they needed was important and she was the only contact they could use to get it. She shook her head as if this would jostle free the unwanted thoughts she was battling, “What time can you meet? I’m sure Cormoran will be more than pleased to see you,” Robin gave up. 

Cormoran would go. 

She would just have to be clever about how she told him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eight o’clock that evening saw Cormoran cover a yawn with his hairy backed hand as he walked along Greek Street to Soho house. It had been a long week and he was looking forward to a takeaway in front of the television before bed. Robin had told him she had managed to secure an interview with Ciara Porter for that evening, but she had double booked herself. She had needed him to meet with a contact of Al’s that may also be able to help them out. He dodged the group of people chatting and smoking outside the inconspicuous grey door which he pulled open and walked inside.

The receptionist recognised him, which he certainly did not feel pleased about him, “Mr Strike, I’ve been asked to direct you to the rooftop garden,”

Strike scowled as he looked over to the staircase, “No lift?”

Luckily there had been a lift and Strike straightened his tie in the mirror. He’d had to rush to make it in time. Robin had insisted that he go upstairs, shower and change before he went to meet the contact. He knew he looked a bit worn and haggard but was it really necessary? The lift came to a stop early and he moved over to let a couple in. They eyed him and then each other knowingly. Strike rolled his neck uncomfortably. How far up was this roof garden for fuck’s sake? 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the kitchenette, Robin was just prying the cap off a glass bottle, when she heard the door slam and knew she was in trouble. It wasn’t long before Cormoran’s huge bulk cast a shadow over her. 

“So, you’re pimping me out now?” his voice was rough and bad-tempered.

Robin held the bottle out to him and smiled, but he just looked at her. Chin down and his eyes wide with indignation. 

She took a swig herself to hide her smile, “Sorry Cormoran, Ciara was insistent it was you and we needed the information,” She said lightly, “You managed to remember her name was Ciara didn’t you?” 

He scoffed and pulled the bottle from her hand before walking away from her and into the next room, almost throwing himself down onto the leather sofa. He’d tested this one for farting noises when they had bought it. There were none. Robin appeared in the living room doorway and he had to pull his traitorous gaze away from the distraction of her tight-fitting leggings and vest top. She clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. Although, once she stood between his legs, he did let her push the hand holding the bottle out of the way so she could sit on his lap, straddling him. Her arms wound their way around his neck, but he turned his face away from her, his bottom lip in a pout.

“Did she give you a name, Honeytrap?” Robin’s lips travelled the length of his throat, the sensation, caught between ticklish and erotic, forced him to try and move his groin away from her before he gave himself away.

“Of course she did – I can be very persuasive,” He countered, his voice slow and gravely.

“Well, as you‘ve done so well tonight, perhaps you can persuade me to do that thing you enjoy so much, I am grateful that you sacrificed yourself for the sake of the case?”

He looked over her shoulder at the T.V, taking a swig of his Doom Bar and watched the opening credits of “Babylon Berlin”. 

“I’m not sure, you made me miss the 9 o’clock episode,” he wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the sulking as Robin shifted and wiggled closer to him.

“I doubt it wasn't that bad sitting across from a supermodel for an hour?” Robin said, a bit of that afternoon’s jealousy creeping into her voice. 

Cormoran recognised it and he did not bother hiding his smirk. He deserved it.

“It was hell,” he groused, “She wasn’t you,” and he turned his face up upwards and kissed her.


End file.
